


Buttery Soft

by Gampyre



Series: Fictober 2020 [8]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Awkward Boners, Baz is still plotting, Baz tries to seduce Simon with more food, Borderline Smut, Butter, M/M, So much more food innuendo, Watford Eighth Year, background DeNiall, butter sex, sexual fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gampyre/pseuds/Gampyre
Summary: For Fictober day 13—Corn!After the candy apple incident, Baz implements part two of his plot to seduce Simon. Simon is very into it. Things heat up in the dining hall.Or: Corn on the cob plays matchmaker to two idiots in love.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Fictober 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949773
Comments: 16
Kudos: 66





	Buttery Soft

**Author's Note:**

> Flufftober/fictober prompts  
> [here](https://subpar-selkie.tumblr.com/post/628080856195547136/flufftober-prompts)
> 
> A huge thank you to [Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire) and [shushu_yaoi_lj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shushu_yaoi_lj/pseuds/shushu_yaoi_lj) for the last minute beta and for being my cheerleaders 💖
> 
> I had so much fun writing Baz stuffing an entire apple in his mouth, I couldn't resist making a short, ridiculous series out of it. I'm counting this as a very late addition for Fictober, since I finally got my laptop fixed and am typing like mad to catch up! Please enjoy this ridiculous, gratuitous corn fic.

_Simon_

By the time I’ve had a quick afternoon wank and (more or less) managed to stop freaking out over realizing I’m in love with Baz Pitch, it’s just about time for dinner. Baz never came back to the room after class, which I’m glad about. I dunno if he noticed my . . . _reaction_ to his apple-eating in class, but whether or not he did, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look him in the eyes again. (Though actually, his eyes are so lovely, I dunno that I’d be able to resist.) 

I have to either hope that Baz didn’t notice how aroused I got just from watching him lick a candy apple (unlikely—I think the whole class saw) or hope that he won’t be a wanker about it (even _more_ unlikely—it’s Baz, after all).

I’m so fucked.

I take my time going to dinner, for once. I’m hoping Baz will be gone by the time I get there. Most days he grabs something small for dinner, picks at it, and then sneaks off for second dinner— _Rat-atouille at Chez Catacombs._

Unfortunately, it seems I’m fresh out of luck today. When I get to the dining hall, Baz is sitting at the table behind Penny, facing the back of her head. I always sit across from Penny. It’s where I’ve always sat. (Agatha used to join us at our table before we broke up.) Baz knows this. And he’s decided to sit _precisely_ where I won’t be able to avoid looking at him while I eat. (He usually sits at the other end of the room, with his minions, so I _know_ he’s plotting.) My face is already growing hot by the time I sit down.

“Hi Simon,” Penny says. “ You look a bit flushed. Are you still feeling ill?”

Baz is currently cocking one eyebrow at me, his signature smirk on his stupid face. He’s laughing at me, I can tell. He _knows_. He’s only got two emotions—pissed off and sadistically amused. (This facial expression is definitely the latter.) 

I tear my eyes away from him to look at Penny. “Huh?”

“You were feeling ill earlier, weren’t you? In Magic Words? Trixie told me you left early.”

I cringe. “Did she say why?”

Penny frowns. “No, just that you looked ill. She said you were sort of sweaty. And flushed, like you had a fever. Or like you were about to go off.”

“Uh, yeah,” I say. I glance over her shoulder at Baz. I know he can hear us—he’s got super vampire hearing or something. He’s snickering and trying to hide it behind his hand. “Something like that. Feeling better now though. Took care of it.” Baz chokes a bit, and I swear I see him blush.

“Oh, good!” Relieved that she doesn’t have to worry about me, Penny launches into a long complaint about the Minotaur’s grading policies, and I tune her out, watching over her shoulder. I know Baz is planning to torment me somehow. I’ll have to keep a close eye on him and make sure I stay one step ahead.

I pick up my fork and stab blindly at the plate of food Penny got for me. I can’t risk taking my eyes off Baz, not even for a second.

_Baz_

Snow is trying to eat his food without looking at it, and he’s failing miserably. He’s spilling rice all over the place, and only half of the roast chicken makes it into his mouth. Most of it ends up in his lap or on the table. It’s like watching a train wreck. Or watching a wild dog eat. (A wild dog you’d like to slip the tongue.) He won’t take his eyes off of me, not even long enough to look where he’s stabbing his fork.

And I haven’t even got started yet.

The circumstances couldn’t be better. I had planned to show up to dinner, sit where Snow could see me, and eat my food as suggestively as possible (small bites, of course, so my fangs don’t pop). But the gods of culinary sexual innuendos have smiled down on me today—we’re having corn on the cob.

I glance at the other end of my table, where Dev and Niall are sitting. (They refused to sit next to me for this.) I pick up my corn cob and lift it in their direction, in a mock toast. Dev wolf whistles and mimes something crude. Niall just shakes his head and looks pointedly the other way. 

Dev was quite enthusiastic about my interpretation of his advice to woo Snow with food. Turns out he _had_ meant that I should give Snow scones, but he decided he likes my version of food flirting better. Niall was less impressed, especially when Dev started chasing him around their room while deepthroating a banana.

I turn my attention back to Snow, who is looking between my friends and me with narrowed eyes. This is going to be fun.

_Simon_

Baz waves a corn cob in the direction of his minions like some sort of secret signal. Dev—Baz’s cousin or something—whistles, and gestures back at Baz, but I can’t see what the gesture is. (It’s probably some sort of secret code.) Then Baz looks back at me, winks, and slides the butter plate so it’s resting directly in front of him.

Then the bastard rolls his corn cob on the butter, sliding it back and forth, slowly, never breaking eye contact with me. I’m mesmerised. I don’t think I could look away even if I wanted to. Baz coats the cob, buttering it up on every side, rubbing every inch of it, until the whole thing is slick and dripping. 

When he’s satisfied with the amount of butter on it, he picks the cob back up and gives it an experimental lick, lapping up the drops of melted butter that are starting to slide down it. He wraps his lips around the end of it, then pulls off again almost immediately and flicks his tongue out to taste it, prodding the cob gently with the pointed end of his tongue. Then he ducks his head to lick a stripe up the cob, from end to tip.

My chest feels tight, and heat blooms in my belly. A very familiar type of heat. _Merlin, not again! Not here!_

I am so, _so_ fucked.

_Baz_

Snow is gaping at me, his mouth hanging open like a codfish. The flush on his cheeks has spread down his neck and to his chest—or at least to the part I can see past his loosened necktie and undone top button. Every inch of visible skin is covered in those lovely moles of his, and I wish I was licking them instead, rather than a sodding corn cob.

A drop of melted butter falls from the end of the cob onto my wrist, and I bring my hand to my mouth to lick it off. Another drop falls, and I suck that one off too. Snow makes a choked noise and turns an even brighter shade of red when I lick at the stray streaks of butter tracing my fingers, running past my wrist. _Interesting_. I wonder . . . I dip the end of the corn back in the butter, scooping up a little glob of it this time, and then I suck the butter off the end of the cob. It tastes horrific—who the hell likes the taste of plain butter?—but Snow presses his fist to his mouth, stifling another involuntary sound. 

_So he’s into butter, then_. (Of course he is.)

I can work with this.

_Simon_

“Simon? Simon, are you okay?” Penny waves her hand in front of my face, startling me out of the fantasies my brain is conjuring. _Baz rubbing butter on his long, lean, perfect body and letting me lick it off. Baz sucking_ me _off, putting his perfect tongue to better use than wasting it on a fucking corn cob. Baz letting me press him back into my mattress, his perfect footballer thighs bracketing my head as I lean in to taste him, . . ._

“Uh, yeah, Pen. Fine. I’m fine.”

She sighs, a bit annoyed with me. I guess I haven’t been paying her much attention. But how could I pay attention to anything else, when Baz is _right there_ , showing off, driving me fucking mad with his mouth? _His mouth, and his lips, and his tongue, and his wickedly pretty eyes . . ._

“What are you looking at?” She turns, sees Baz (while he happens to _not_ have the corn cob shoved in his mouth), then looks back at me with another sigh. “Simon, you’ve got to stop—”

“He’s doing this on purpose,” I growl, and I think Baz hears me, because he raises one eyebrow at me (while licking excess butter off his thumb). “He’s—he’s—” Baz then dips two fingers in the butter plate (good thing he’s not sharing it with anyone else, I guess) and runs them along the length of his cob. Then he shoves both fingers into his mouth, sucking on them, pressing them in and down and back, all the way to his knuckles. He pulls his fingers back out slowly, licking every last bit of butter off. I can see his jaw working as he swirls his fingers around in his mouth. My face is no longer the only place blood is rushing to. “He’s plotting. He’s trying to _seduce_ me.”

Penny throws her hands up in an exasperated gesture, then stands and gathers her things. “I’ve heard enough about Baz for one day,” she says. “You spent all morning complaining that he started using a different shampoo and that your room smells different now, and that he did it on purpose to confuse you so that he could kill you later while you were—and I quote—‘too distracted to think properly.’ This obsession of yours is ridiculous, and I’ve had enough. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, Simon.” She ruffles my hair a bit as she leaves, and I turn my full attention back to my archnemesis (who I’m apparently desperately attracted to and at least a little in love with).

_Baz_

Bunce leaves, and Snow’s eyes come back to rest on me. He’s shifting uncomfortably in his seat, glaring at me with an expression that is at least half lust, half something else.

I’m improvising now. I’ve been at this for nearly twenty minutes, which is far longer than I’d planned. I’d thought Snow would have stormed out again, before he had the same problem as . . . I frown and tilt my head a bit as I look at him. He’s clearly uncomfortable, squirming in his seat the way he is. One of his hands disappears under the table, and he exhales heavily. _Oh_. Well then. This has progressed farther than I thought.

_Simon_

I’m so fucking hard it’s starting to hurt. I’m well past the point where I could have made it out of the dining hall without anyone noticing. (At least not without casting a spell, which might not be the smartest idea in the state I’m in.) People may have passed off the Magic Words incident as an illness or as my magic going haywire, but this is the second time I’ve gotten an erection in public today—because of _Baz_ —and I don’t think I’d get off as lucky as last time.

Hah. _Get off_. Wish I could. I press the heel of my hand to my crotch and bite back a moan at the pressure. Baz pulls off of the cob just long enough to smirk at me again. I glance around to see if anyone else has noticed what he’s doing, but no one else is looking. He must have cast **_There’s nothing to see here!_ ** I wonder if the spell includes me. If maybe no one would notice if I—

No. No fucking way. I’m not going to rub one out through my trousers in the middle of the fucking dining hall just because Baz Pitch can’t eat a piece of corn like a regular person.

I breathe deeply, evenly, trying to get control of myself. It’s one of those techniques I’m supposed to use when I’m about to go off, though it never really helps then. The breathing helps a little now, though. I manage to calm down just enough to take the edge off of my arousal, but then Baz swallows the whole thing down. Well, most of it anyway. Almost an entire corn cob.

He closes his eyes and groans. _Loudly_. (No one turns to look . . . yeah, he definitely cast something for privacy). The sound goes straight to my dick, and it twitches. _Fuck_. 

He’s got one hand wrapped around the base of the corn cob, covering the part he couldn’t fit in his mouth. The other hand wipes at the butter that’s dripping down his chin. He slides off the cob, swirls his tongue around the tip, then sucks it back down whole.

First the apple, and now this. What _can’t_ Baz fit in his mouth? (I think I’d very much like to test his limits.)

He chokes a little on the cob, which he’s sucked down almost to the base of it (guess he does have a gag reflex after all) and pulls it back out, then looks up at me with heavily lidded eyes. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and I snap.

Just in case Baz hadn’t cast his spell wide enough, I cast my own. I don’t even give a fuck if it goes wrong. “ ** _There’s nothing to see here!_** ” Then I launch myself out of my chair.

_Baz_

Snow stands, very clearly sporting an erection (the shape of him through his trousers is enough to give me my own spike of arousal). He glares at me, and for a brief moment I think he’s going to come over here. My mind flips through a Rolodex of scenarios— _Snow yanking me up by my collar. Snow shoving me against the table, pushing me up on it, onto my back, and climbing on top of me. Snow attacking me with his mouth, biting at my lips as he licks the butter off of them. Snow’s fists in my hair, pulling on it as he moves from my mouth to my throat, leaving a trail of love bites down my neck . . ._

But he walks the other direction.

I watch him go (a pleasant sight in and of itself—he’s got a perfect arse), and let the corn cob fall onto my plate with a clatter. Snow is heading to the buffet line.

I wonder what he’s thinking.

_Simon_

I don’t know what I’m thinking. 

All I know is, if Baz is hell-bent on tormenting me like this, I’m going to give as good as I get.

I don’t know if Baz likes me, or if he’s even attracted to me. But I know three things. One, I’m a reasonably good-looking bloke. Two, no bloke who can lick a bloody corn cob _that_ suggestively and _that_ enthusiastically is 100% straight. And three, he was definitely staring at my crotch when I stood up. So I think I might have a shot—at least at riling him up a little.

I survey the options at the buffet, looking for an effective weapon.Then I see them—soft, sweet, coated in sugar, deliciously plump and round. _Perfect_. I snag the largest cinnamon bun on the tray . . . and return to battle.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on Tumblr!  
> [Gampyre on Tumblr](https://gampyre.tumblr.com/)


End file.
